The Gray Ribbon
by LivinJgrl123
Summary: The gift she gave him would remind of the color of her eyes - but it was also a reminder of the only color she would ever know. *COMPLETE*
1. Part I: A Mystery Girl

Disclaimer

**This is going to be a three chapter-ed story.  
I just wanted to write a really short story that  
was originally just going to be one giant  
one-shot but then I changed my mind...  
so here it is. This isn't the best, I'll admit,  
but I just couldn't help myself.**

_Warning: OC ahead :)_

**Reviews are welcome  
Thanks for reading! :D**

* * *

Richard Grayson knew how to dance. He could dance to nearly anything and get all of it right, no matter what the era, the style, the beat, or the sound of the song. Being a billionaire's son (and Batman's sidekick) had kind of enforced what rich people went through during childhood (dance lessons had been necessary, for some reason). But knowing how didn't mean he'd always enjoyed it. And watching Tim try ( and Jason, too, before he'd _changed_) and learn it had been hilarious enough, so at least all those lessons as a small child had been worth it.

Now, Dick knew how to dance. Girls loved to dance with him. Why? Because, as far as they knew, he never messed up. But there was thing called learning how to improvise over the years (being an acrobat, then Robin, and now Nightwing had had a hand in that), which worked wonders when he was clueless what to do.

He was at a party. Not a high-up-in-society kind of party. No, this was simply a party that was to be enjoyed by "friends". And by friends, Bruce had actually meant _coworkers. _It was safe to say that he and Tim weren't exactly thrilled to be here, among people they either knew and didn't like, people they didn't know and didn't already like, and then there were people who they just _did not know_.

Dick and Tim were both leaning up against the wall, and for once, they were relaxed, despite their current situation. There had been no patrol tonight - everyone else had covered that, and it was apparent that both boys had needed a day and a night off: they'd spent the day sleeping, lying around, doing nothing until Alfred had come down to the Cave and informed them that Bruce wanted them ready in an hour of some party that consisted of _friends_ (To Dick, Jason had sprung to mind - he'd never been one for those type of parties, not even when Bruce tried to be angry with him). Now here they were, at eight o'clock on a Saturday night, in December, as the snow fell outside to Gotham's dirty streets.

"Want to go home?" Tim asked after a while, stirring his fruit punch with his straw, scowling at the little berry floating on the surface. They'd been there for nearly half an hour, conversed with a few millionaires six eggs short of a dozen (who got along with Bruce quite well), and had merely stayed side by side. If crime fighting was an option right now, they'd take it if the evening continued on like this. Bruce was somewhere in the room, probably on the other side. They were in one of the tallest skyscrapers in Gotham City - everything looked so tiny below them.

"I wish we could," Dick replied, setting his drink down on a table nearby and sighing, relaxing his "proper" posture as another song started up, and couples moved to the center of the room. It was something from before 1930 - that much he knew. They'd been playing a lot of that music since they'd arrived. They didn't even know whose party this was - whether it was one man or a group who planned this, they didn't know nor care.

Tim observed the dance and found himself tapping his foot softly to it. It was a moderately fast song, but it was nice enough that it seemed to flow nicely in his ears. His eyes roamed over the crowd - a face full of strangers, as far as he was concerned - and searched for someone to dance with.

"Have fun out there," Dick sighed, knowing exactly what was on Tim's mind, looking around for himself for a few seconds before his gaze returned to his brother. "Don't get hurt."

Tim shot him a smirk, and it reminded him of Jason's for a brief second, but shook the image out of his head. This was not a night to remember such a tragedy. Dick shot a smirk at him right back. "The last time you danced with a girl she - "

"Yeah, yeah," Tim said, dismissing the older boy's words with a wave of his hand. "I know that, but she was mad at me for pointing out a major flaw - "

"You called her shallow. To her face."

"_Hey_. Honesty counts, right?"

Dick shook his head as Tim drained his drink, set it down, and wandered off to one of the girls standing on the edge of the dance floor. He noticed he was heading towards a particular bored-looking girl with flat black hair that stopped right below her ears sharply, freckles that stood out sharply on her tanned-and-not skin. Her eyes - he could see even at this distance - were small but glassy, narrowed and suspicious, a frown forming on her lips as she turned to look at Tim. She was a few inches shorter than him but look about the same age. Her clunky, polished dress shoes were tapping the tiled floor nervously - probably a habit.

The first Boy Wonder had to roll his eyes as the song ended, an another, even faster one began, still sounding like it came from the exact same era, watching the sullen girl carefully as her expression turned from sour to a bit impassive, but he knew that look well enough to know that she secretly wanted to dance with Tim.

And like a fool - who noticed what Dick did - Timothy Drake grinned for all he was worth, hero or not, and it seemed to the older one that he'd momentarily every bad thing they'd ever gone through and witnessed, allowing himself to purely enjoy this moment. Most of their friends and allies couldn't purely enjoy a moment of anything.

He watched as Tim offered his hand, and after a few seconds of hesitation, the girl in the dull, grey dress took it and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, and they were lost among the other dancers dressed in dresses and suits. Tim didn't always look for girls who were easily offended and were vain - although he loved to bother them. Tim didn't really talk with anyone, as far as Dick knew, outside of being the third Robin. Maybe he wouldn't make this one angry, and maybe he would leave this party alive, instead of near in-pieces (literally) like the last time.

While the song progressed, and more and more people joined each other on the dance floor, no longer seeming to care who their partner was (really, it was just one dance, right?) Dick remained leaning against the wall, glancing out the window. The way the lights sparkled from this high up appeared almost sinister to him, after all that he'd seen - and after all the heights he'd had to jump and fall from in order to keep himself moving.

Dick was content to stand there by himself for the remainder of the event - or at least that was what he was thinking at the moment - just as several gentlemen on the other side of the room did, sitting and conversing quietly about matters that he couldn't bring himself to care about. Among them was Bruce, who glanced at his sons every few minutes. Probably to make sure they didn't start a fight or anything with some of the other boys there.

But he realized he wasn't content with just standing there when he let his gaze slip towards the window to his left again. This time, instead of sinister twinkling Gotham City light staring back at him, there was a girl blocking his view.

She was Tim's height, with light brown hair that was pulled back into a pony tail, held loosely in place by a gray ribbon. Her skin seemed paler than pale, like she didn't see much sun. She was turned away from him, leaning up against the tall windows that stretched all the way to the ceiling. Her posture was relaxed, as far as he could tell, and her arms were wrapped around herself, as if she was cold. Her dress was a navy blue, with simple straps that clung to her shoulders, while it it hugged her hip bones snugly and frilled out just a tiny bit past the that, ending just below the knees. Black tights - or leggings (how could he possibly know?) - peeked out from under the dress, covering her slender legs, which in small, shiny flats that matched the dress exactly. Her hands were locked behind her back now, her fingers adjusting every so often.

Dick, instead of turning away and disappearing into his thoughts - as he usually would have done - his eyes remained locked on the girl. She shouldn't have caught his attention - he couldn't even see her face, she was (most likely) a civilian, and he was sure that he didn't know her. She wasn't as thin or bony as the girl Tim was dancing with. She seemed to have a bit more meat on her bones - but just a little. From the back, she reminded him of a dwarf (the thought nearly sent him chuckling), but everyone who was considerably shorter than him was envisioned as a dwarf.

The thought _did_ send him chuckling in the end, as the dance ended.

"Hey," Dick turned at the sound of Tim's voice to see that same sullen girl with her arm looped through his, a small but genuine and polite smile on her face as they came to a stop in front of him. Tim didn't look the last bit tired from the dancing, and seemed at ease with the girl beside him.

"Hey," Dick said back, giving his brother a raised eyebrow, but smiling at the girl, who narrowed her eyes at him. It made him uncomfortable, how sharp this one was. "How was dancing?"

Tim's smile turned into a full-fledged smirk, and his eyes slid to the girl for a moment, and then returned his attention to his brother. He said nothing. The girl bristled, but there was no way either of them missed slight tint of red in her hollow cheeks. Dick also didn't miss the look she shot Tim.

"Who's this?" Dick asked, breaking the silence, and saving Tim from bursting into laughter.

"Oh, this is Kayla," he said, and the girl - _Kayla_ - smiled at him. It was a stretched, tight smile, but still polite enough to scrape by. "Kayla Mari. Kayla, this is my older brother, Richard."

"It's nice to meet you, Richard," she said, holding out her hand, her eyes taking on their suspicious gleam again.

"I see you're getting along with Timothy well," Dick said, nearly grinning again at the flash in the younger boy's eyes.

"You should come and dance," Tim said, regaining his calm, humor evident in his eyes.

"With who?" Dick asked.

"Find someone," Kayla interjected, a frown beginning to twist her thin lips. "It's lots of fun." With one look at her slightly winded features - but up-and-go posture - he could guess that she'd had 'lots of fun'. Dick danced, but he didn't intend to dance here. Tim had been lucky. Fairly lucky. And judging by Tim's lifted mood, this girl had proven not to be anyone he would be fighting with any time soon.

"Why aren't you two dancing?" couples began to filter back to the middle of the room; he hadn't even know they'd drifted to their tables to either sip some punch or take a bite of some dainty little meal.

"Intermission," Kayla replied. With a tug of Tim's suit sleeve, she said to Dick, "now, we'll be off" and pulled him away from his brother.

Tim smirked at Dick and allowed the girl to lead him into the crowd, and soon they were lost as another seemingly ancient song started up again. This one was so much slower and soothing than the last had been.

Dick closed his eyes for a brief moment and leaned his head back against the cool wall, breathing in and out deeply a few times, relaxing again, his mind clear of the usual worries: criminals trying to destroy cities, masterminds attempting to take over the world, crazies who'd escaped Arkham and had fled to little places around the world causing mayhem - the usual, indeed.

He opened them again, looking around. They'd dimmed the lights a bit so the atmosphere of the room - for the dancers, mostly - was different, to suit the present mood that the song provided.

Dick's eyes slid back to the window, and wasn't surprised to see that the girl had moved to stand in the corner, still gazing out the window, her shoulder leaning against the wall. Her arms were back around herself, her head titled to the side, against the wall, exposing pale skin. Her shoulders moved up and down slightly and slowly, matching her breathing. If she weren't standing up, it might have seemed like she was sleeping.

A smile crept onto his feature's, the girl's words ringing through his ears.

_Find someone._

_It's lots of fun._

He had a feeling he'd hear it from Wally for the next few weeks if he didn't do _something_ "fun" before the party ended. And everyone else. Maybe even Bruce would tell him - if he didn't - to have fun while he could have it. He was an adult, after all. Adults generally didn't have fun.

Or so he was told.

He studied the girl - or at least, he assumed it was a girl (how could he know, right?) - trying to decide why she had caught his attention. Few girls caught his attention. Zatanna had been a crush, a wonderful friend to have, but he no long liked her in _that_ way. But they were still great friends. And he'd had a thing with Babs for a while, but that had been - what, a while ago? And he was still best friends with her as well.

But he usually didn't just look at the back of girl's heads and stare at them at some dim-lit party with slow-dance appropriate music.

Slowly, Dick pushed himself off the wall and walked over to where he was standing beside the girl, but at the same time completely out of sight. He took a moment to look at her out of the corner of his eyes and nearly made a noise - something that would have been akin to a gasp - at who was staring out the window. He blinked, recovering from his shock, and studied her reflection in the window.

The girl with the gray ribbon was nameless to him, but that didn't mean that she wasn't familiar.

At that moment, he wished he knew her name.


	2. Part II: The Last Dance

_There is a video to the song at the end of Part II (which is this doc). Ignore the picture for the video and simply listen to the song :) Here is the URL (copy and paste the address):_

_www. youtube watch?v=DvhPBKXB48U_

_(No spaces.)_

* * *

The girl Dicks stood next to had enormous gray eyes that stared blankly back at her in the window. Dark, sunken circles sat underneath her un-blinking eyes. Her skin seemed even paler, now that he could see that there was no color in her cheeks. She was the very definition of the word _petite_. He could see a birthmark on the right side of the base of her neck, where the skin was twisted and morphed into an odd shape, but it wasn't noticeable unless you'd seen it before and knew it was there.

Dick couldn't remember her name. In fact, he knew he couldn't remember her name because she'd never given it to him. He remembered talking with her once or twice - at one of these little parties that Bruce's "friends" had thrown - a while back, when his days of being Robin were nearing their end. They'd spoken briefly, been introduced three times - this would be the fourth, if he remembered correctly - but they hadn't really connected to the point where they could be called friends.

At first glance, Richard Grayson, in a suit, looked was the perfect example of a billionaire's son.

At first glance, this girl had mirrored what he was supposed to be to civilians when the mask wasn't on.

But he wasn't what he seemed - he'd proved that on more than several occasions. Judging from the short conversations they'd shared, she wasn't all that bad. Dick wondered who her parents here - he'd never seen her come in with anyone. Then again, she was always there when he got there, and always there till he stayed.

The small smile on his face grew into a crooked grin as he took one step to the left, so he was directly behind her. He was literally breathing down her neck - the weak, shallow breaths seemed not to bother her - and leaned over to the left, leaning forward just a bit so his mouth was next to her ear as he whispered one word.

_"Boo."_

The girl, to Dick's credit, jumped and whirled around, a hand to her chest, her eyes wide as saucers. As soon as she saw him, though, she relaxed, her arm going to hold her other arm, her rigid posture relaxing.

"It's you," she said breathlessly. Dick smiled down at her as sincerely as he possibly could, but he felt so much better after getting the better of her. "I guess I should say hi."

He watched her eyes look him over a few times before replied. "I guess you should."

It took her a moment, and then a smile broke out onto her face, but it looked so wrong, with how sickly she appeared to be. The gray-eyed girl was still a mystery to him. He had no real possibilities as to why she looked and acted as she did.

"But I won't."

He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as her arm fell to her side. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Tim with the same girl - Kayla was her name, wasn't it? - and boy oh boy, it seriously looked like one Boy Wonder was developing a crush - he hoped it wasn't; Bruce wasn't big on crushes on anyone, especially civilians - and turned his attention back to the girl. Another song ended, and a man's voice shouted, "second to last song, ladies and gentlemen!" and a faster, happier sounding song began to play from the speakers, and people began to dance again. He hadn't even noticed that the song had ended.

"And why won't you?"

The girl reached up and twirled the end of the ribbon her hair around her finger as she spoke, with her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Because you already said it."

Dick smirked, his sincerity replaced by smugness.

"So in your book 'boo' is hello?" his eyes danced with humor. "Interesting."

"It must be your version of it," she said

They both held the other's gaze as the music drowned everything else out as they refrained from speaking for a few moments.

As soon as there was the slightest hint of pink in her cheeks, the used-to-be Boy Wonder smirked triumphantly.

_Winning._

Her arms went back around herself, her eyes leaving his for a few seconds before returning, pretending she couldn't see that smirk of his.

Dick, at that moment, wished that he knew her name, and that she knew his. But he didn't plan on asking her, not unless she told him this time. They'd been introduced, but both of them must have not been paying attention when introductions had been made - but she'd never asked, and he'd asked twice. Neither of them had gotten what they wanted to know.

He remembered when they'd first met - at one of these little shindigs - that she'd been acting how she was right now. She'd originally been shy and quiet (she still was quiet) and had been hard to talk to at first. But now that they'd met a few more times, she was a bit more comfortable around him. He had to guess that she wasn't that great at meeting people (every time she came along he had to wonder about her) but when you knew her somewhat she was actually quite nice to hang around with.

It was especially fun to _scare her_. He remembered doing that the second time they'd met - and even though someone's martini had been dumped over his head (ruining his Italian suit in the process) he had no regrets. Of course, a glass of martini on his head had followed by a glass of red punch splashed on her dress. Although Bruce had frowned upon the whole incident (and hadn't let it go for the longest time), it still had been fun. And they hadn't really received a lecture on it (well, maybe a few smirks from a few old ladies and socialites shaking their heads at their 'childish antics').

"So..." she took her hand away from the ribbon, placing both behind her back. She seemed to fidget when it was just one on one time with someone. He knew people did that sometimes - but he didn't know anyone who did it as much as her.

In the back of his mind, a light bulb lit up.

And said light bulb caused a crooked grin to appear on his face.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked her.

She blinked.

"Um..."

Instead of uncomfortable, her expression changed to sheepish. Dick had never seen her dance before.

Oh, this should be interesting.

"You know, dance - the last dance."

Her sheepish look turned blank for a moment, before realization crossed her features.

"...oh," she said softly, color warming her cheeks to a rosy hue, that made her look less sickly - less drained.

"_Oh_..." she said again, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "With you?" her voice was tiny. She seemed to shrink back towards the window.

"That's the whole point of asking you to dance," he told her, patiently waiting for end of this fast, upbeat song. Parties liked these always ended in something slow, sweet or sad. Or something wild. But this time he knew that it would be something slow.

Oh, goody.

After a moment of silence (technical silence between them, anyway) he pressed a little bit. "So? Will you dance with me?"

To his utter amusement - and surprisingly enough, nervousness - she opened her mouth, closed it, repeated that action twice, and then murmured, "sure" and before she could say anything else the song ended, and the call-out for the last song was made. Dick took her hand and led her into the dance floor, many more people moving in for the last dance.

The music began to play, and at the sound of it the girl perked up. Dick grinned. So gray-eyes knew this one, too, did she?

Gray-eyes.

He should call her that more often.

He looked around and realized it was one of those weird slow-dance sort of deals: as long as you moved in time to the beat, you could do whatever you wanted (as long as you kept quiet).

His hands slowly rested on her hip bones, and she stiffened as he slid them up to their appropriate place: on her waist. The navy blue dress felt like satin underneath his fingers. A Her arms hesitantly went around his neck, and her head rested against his shoulder. He breathed in through his nose and inhaled something that reminded him of magnolias (don't ask him why that was so), his lips relaxing into a faint smile as a smooth voice began to sing, and Gray-eyes closed her eyes.

_"__Someday he'll come along_

_The man I love_

_And he'll be big and strong_

_The man I love_

_And when he comes my way_

_I'll do my best to make him_

_Stay…"_

Gray-eyes breathed out a sigh through her nose as the music seemed to be in time with her heartbeat - slow and steady. Dick didn't know that if her arms weren't draped around his neck, he'd see them shaking. If she'd had any words to say, he would have heard the stutter in her voice, the stutter she got when she was nervous beyond belief. But thank God Helen Forrest's voice made conversation unlikely while the last dance took place for the night. It had to be close to ten o'clock now, and she was getting sleepy, leaning on his shoulder. It felt... _nice_, to be held, especially by this boy (he didn't really act like a young man). It felt... _safe_.

But these feelings was irregular, unusual - for her, anyway.

She allowed her eyes to open for a brief moment and inhaled deeply, her eyes widening at the strangely familiar scent of peppermint and... well... something that could only be assigned to this man.

Gray-eyes let her eyes close again, and relaxed. She would enjoy this while it lasted.

_"He'll look at me and smile…_

_And understand…_

_And in a little while…_

_He'll take my hand…_

_And though it seems absurd…_

_I know we won't both say…_

_a word…"_

Dick was seriously considering the idea of actually asking for her name. Perhaps he could trick her into giving to him, maybe she would give it to him - and maybe he wouldn't have to ask.

This one night of relaxation (dancing wasn't usually how he spent his free time) was one he wouldn't push to the back of his mind, not until the next fancy-schmancy shindig that Bruce dragged Tim and Dick to - not after tonight.

_"Maybe I will meet him someday_

_Maybe Monday_

_Maybe not_

_I'll meet him one day_

_Maybe Tuesday will be our good news day_

_We'll build a little home just meant for two_

_From which I'll never roam_

_Who would, could you_

_And so all else above_

_I'm waiting for_

_The man_

_I_

_Love…"_

Dick grinned as the words faded away, and he whispered to the girl in his arms, "you still awake, Gray-eyes?"

Jumbled words that were simply a murmur that disappeared into the sound filling the room reached his ears, and he couldn't help grinning like a fool (he really should avoid looking like one; he'd been the original Boy Wonder, after all).

"What was that?"

"If I stay here you'll have to carry me downstairs."

It was nothing more than a mumble, but at least he could understand her this time.

"What do you mean, here?" he whispered, resting his head atop her own. This immediately felt much better to the both of them (although neither would admit it to the other or ever say it aloud to anyone - ever).

"In your arms," was the reluctant reply.

Dick closed his eyes.

He didn't need to look to see that the color had returned to her cheeks - if only for a little while.

_"Maybe I will meet him someday_

_Maybe Monday, maybe not_

_Still I'm sure to meet him one day_

_Maybe Tuesday will be our good news day_

_We'll build a little home just meant for two_

_From which I'll never roam_

_Who would, could you_

_And so else above_

_I'm waiting for_

_The man_

_I_

_Love."_

* * *

_(C) 1924  
"The Man I Love"  
originally by George Gershwin  
(covered by: Helen Forrest)_


	3. Part III: One Little Gift

Dick watched as the girl stepped backwards, smiling up at him. Her glassy eyes looked alive at that moment. He wouldn't mind to see that sight again some time.

"I need to go." she said after a moment.

He nodded, grinning again from ear to ear. "Want me to carry you down, Gray-eyes?"

She tried to frown, but it didn't work. "Stop calling me that."

"What else am I supposed to call you?"

She opened her mouth to reply, and then clamped it shut. Damn. Mentally berating herself for nearly giving herself away unknowingly, she vowed that she would not let slip her name again - not until she was certain she would never see this handsome (it was hard admitting that, considering what a pain he was at times) young man again (and oh, how she hoped this was the last time she'd seem him) again.

"_Almost_," Dick muttered. This was the first time she'd ever slipped up. It made him wonder. Did anyone else know her name? Maybe she was supposed to be left alone at these parties, maybe there was a reason she stood in the corner staring into space - maybe, maybe, maybe...

The girl shifted from one foot to the other. "You don't have to carry me... but you can walk me down."

"Aw, c'mon, princess - you sure I can't carry you?"

"Don't call me princess." Her tone was indignant. What a brilliant idea this had been.

"Can I still carry you?" the hopefulness in his tone wasn't all fake - it seemed to her that he had some hope of _actually_ carrying her out of the building like a damsel in distress. But by the glint in his eye she had to take a guess that he was joking.

Oh, good lord. What had he been like back before she'd known of him? Judging by his behavior, he hadn't grown up all that much. She shook herself mentally. She probably didn't even want to know.

"You can walk me down if you want."

He nodded and allowed her to the lead the way, moving easily through the crowd as she headed for the elevator.

But instead of going inside those double doors, she turned abruptly to the left and headed for the heavy door that led to the stairs.

"Taking the long way?" Dick chirped, waving at Tim over his shoulder when he saw a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his brother's face, following her out, allowing the door to bang shut behind them as they slowly descended towards the ground floor. The spiral downwards looked endless.

"Um... yeah, I've never been one for an awkward elevator ride," she provided, slowing her pace, taking her time. Little did he know that she was trying to prolong their time together. The elevator ride would have gone too fast, would have been to awkward for her - she knew that there was a real possibility that she might never see him again. She'd been hoping for that possibility after the first time they'd met. He'd been friendly, nice, seemingly unassuming of what she was, of who she was (she couldn't say that anyone would _want_ to meet the real her) - something that she'd tried to avoid in people. You couldn't trust people. Sometimes, even though they weren't, it was like they were wearing a mask.

And you could only know the real them when you'd seen them with and without their masks - figurative or not.

Dick followed her at a slow pace, allowing her to be a few stairs ahead of him, watching her thoughtfully as her hand went up to her pony tail to play with one of the ends of the ribbon. It looked to be a habit of hers.

The walked downward ( there were _so many freaking stairs_) in silence for a bit before she halted, mid step. He halted as well, his hand hovering over the rail.

"Marie."

He blinked.

Had he heard what he thought he'd just heard?

"Excuse me?" he asked, an eyebrow going up.

"My name. It's Marie."

The girl's posture was rigid. She held her breath, letting the silence wash over them again. This silence, though - it bothered them both. But she waited. Waited for him to speak. He couldn't see it, but those gray eyes of hers were squeezed shut

Dick was smirking like the brat he'd been known to be on occasion as Robin. Although she couldn't see it, though, there was gratitude on his face. Finally. She'd said it. And he wasn't about to take it for granted - but irritating her seemed the way to go. She probably didn't want touchy-feely crap from him.

"Mary it is, then."

He heard her near soundless sigh of relief before she turned to scowl at him.

"You said it wrong. It's nor Mary - it's _Marie_."

Dick crossed his arms over his chest as she put her hands on her hips, gray, glassy eyes narrowed.

"Right. Mary. That's what I said, isn't it?"

She knew he was messing with her, knew that it was like him to kid around, knew that he was enjoying this as much as she didn't want to leave. But why couldn't he say it _right_?

"No, no, _Mah - reeeee._"

"Oh. Well, why didn't you say that, then, Mah - reeeee."

Her scowl twisted up into what appeared to be a smile warring with a frown. "No, no, you idiot - "

"What? What?" he held up his hands, laughing freely at her. "Princess, Gray-eyes - Mary. Good for me."

She sighed and shook her head. "You are utterly ridiculous," she murmured.

"And utterly charming, handsome, and awesome," he added.

It was her turn to raise any eyebrow at him.

She turned back around and began heading down the stairs again, with the ex-Boy Wonder following close behind.

"Marie," he said, when he saw that they were nearing the bottom.

"Yes?" she had returned to her usual self - quiet. Not shy. Not so much, at least. But at least she was speaking to him. Her being quiet, though - it sort of bothered him, although she seemed even more at ease than before (but he'd seen how relaxed she'd been while dancing, and he had to take a guess and say that she usually wouldn't have been able to say yes). He didn't know why.

"My name," he said, after a split second of hesitation, "it's Richard."

She stopped where she was, one step away from the platform, and turned her head so her eyes could meet his. The girl swallowed, hard. He had dark, clear eyes - eyes that held things that were akin to secrets that probably were always whispering to him in the back of his mind. He was as much of a stranger to him as he was to her.

"Richard?" she repeated.

"Yeah," he said, "you can call me Dick, though."

He couldn't believe he'd just told her that. He thought about it for a moment as they continued to look at each other, both suspicious both unassuming of who and what the other was, and both equally as perplexed as to how they had somehow ended up, paused, on the stairs as the snow fell outside, clouding the air with the wet flakes that seemed to stick to everything. But as the seconds ticked by, neither of them had looked out the window to the left of her, to the right of him.

Finally, she spoke.

"Dick, huh?"

He nodded.

A grin crept over her features.

"Well, okay then, Dicky."

"Right, then, Mary. Should we get down to the lobby or does Cinderella not have to go back to her pumpkin-carriage at the stroke of midnight?"

Anyone else would have seen it as impatient - anyone but Dick. Marie, at first, thought that he was trying to get rid of her (hadn't she been warned that everyone was untrustworthy? Yes, she had) but then she snorted.

"I'm not Cinderella, Wonder Boy."

"Does this mean you think I'm wonderful?"

Marie opened her mouth, clamped it shut, and began her descent once again, Dick following, wondering about what she'd just called him. It had been _awfully close_ to Boy Wonder. He knew he hadn't given anything away - at all._  
_

He categorize it as a coincidence (a civilian one at that; heroes like him just didn't have one), but did not dismiss it as they finally reached the bottom floor.

The clerk behind a stainless granite counter looked up to see the two walking side by side (sort of: she was ahead of him by, at the least, half a step).

"Miss," he greeted her, reaching under the counter and pulling out her small black back with a long strap that would go over a shoulder and across her chest. She nodded her thanks to the clerk, who turned away from her abruptly after handing the item over, going back to whatever she'd interrupted.

Marie sighed, glancing at Dick, and motioned with a bob of her head to follow her as she headed for the revolving glass doors, a small lump forming in her throat. She desperately tried to swallow it, to get rid of it. She shouldn't have felt a thing - she shouldn't have allowed him to dance with her, shouldn't have spoken to him, shouldn't have walked down God-knows how many flights of stairs just so they could talk to one another in private as well as enjoy the other's company (while trying to figure out why they were suspicious of the other) in the silence that seemed to follow them around and crash down on them like a great wave from the ocean: heavy, suffocating.

She pushed her way forward, her hands leaving prints (prints that would not show up in any database - ever...hopefully) on the frosty glass as she stepped outside, her shoes immediately soaking up the snow that had been trampled on by few, that also had been reduced to nothing but slush that made her toes curl uncomfortably in her flats.

She turned around to face him. They stood apart, snow falling as they simply looked at one another, slowly getting soaked and chilled to the bone. To Dick, in her dress, in the snow - she was amazing, with those strange eyes of hers, and that little ribbon fluttering around in the slight, brisk wind that blew the snow eastward. To Maire, to her disappointment, she could not determine the color of his hair, the color of his suit, or his eyes - or anything. She guessed he liked to wear darker colors - perhaps blue, if she even knew what blue was.

But she only managed to see him in shades of gray.

It stung, to know that she didn't even know the color of the sky, or the grass - or anything as simple as that.

She opened her mouth to say something, but then a sharp, shrill ring filled the air, from her purse, and she fumbled with the zipper to fish it out. Once it was on, she saw who was calling, and her felt her hopeful expression turn crestfallen.

Oh.

What a way to ruin the moment.

Grimacing, she snapped it shut, cutting off the ringing, and shoved it back into her purse with now shaking hands.

"I - "

"It's okay," he assured her, as if she knew she was going to give him some poor excuse as to why she had to leave him. "You can go."

Relief and guilt flooded her body, crushing her heart as she nodded, willing herself not to cry or sob or ask for him to hug her or anything like that. They would not meet again - she had to be sure of that (or at least she told herself that she had to be sure of that). Her hands, still wobbly, went to play with ribbon, and accidentally tugged harder than intended, and then she was clutching it behind her back, tight in her little fist, her hair wet, framing her face, plastered on her forehead.

The world could have been ending for all she cared; she could only see him.

"I guess this is where you go and I go back inside and mope around till I get out of that party, right?" Dick asked after a moment of awkward silence.

_Awkward_. He nearly flinched. Why did it have to be awkward? It shouldn't have been. They barely knew one another. One dance, one scrambled conversation - that was all it had been.

Right?

"I guess so..." she murmured, and he turned and started to head towards the revolving doors.

What popped out of her mouth next nearly made her want to dig a hole in the sidewalk and bury her head in it, and never come up for air.

"What color are your eyes?"

She regretted these words as soon as the sentence had begun to form in her mouth. Why had she asked that? This was foolish. She had no right asking him, it wasn't in her person to do this. She was not supposed to, at all, talk to anyone but those she was told to talk to and had always talked to. But she had to leave - so why not blurt our an embarrassing, stupid question?

He halted, and he whipped his head around to face her. He'd heard her. He didn't need her to repeat it.

It took him only a moment to guess why she'd asked. Anyone - anyone but her, it seemed - that he'd met had told him that he'd had navy blue eyes, much like the color that was her dress.

_Didn't see that one__ coming_.

"Blue." He turned again to leave, but this time, she caught his hand with her own.

"Wait a moment," she said.

And he did.

Marie took the hand she held and laid his palm out flat, and carefully put the ribbon in his hand before she turned and darted away, surprisingly fast, through the slush, across the street, and onward.

Dick made a fist around the gray ribbon, watching as Marie disappeared into the snowy night.

* * *

_~ the end ~_


End file.
